


What's in a Name

by Delmire



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: But a different soulmate AU, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Soulmate AU, domestic abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-24 20:17:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6165484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delmire/pseuds/Delmire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He always thought he was called nothing; only good boys got names.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is not based in any of my AU's and is a soulmate fic where the name of your soulmate is written on your wrist. Rated M for implied domestic abuse, please be aware that it is a very far cry from my usual cute and fluffy. I was just in a mood today and this happened :x

Cold. It was so cold. His tiny body was wracked with shivers. The threadbare shirt that fell past his knees did nothing to keep away the cold seeping into his bones. The hard concrete beneath him felt like ice. Usually he would curl up with his mother and together they could manage some semblance of warmth and comfort. But he hadn’t seen her since that morning. 

She had been crying, tears tracked down her sunken face but she never made a sound. He had wanted to go to her, hug her, but he knew he had to wait until night to do that. Or she would get hit again. And they would hit him too. 

So he was quiet, like a little mouse. Just like he promised her. He would always be a good boy for her. 

The man had kept hitting and kicking and yelling so loud it hurt his ears. He kept going until she crumbled to the ground. No sound left her lips. When the man finally left, he crawled out of his hiding spot under the stairs and went to wake her up. She was just sleeping right? She always said you had to sleep to get better and take the hurt away. 

He had been surprised when he had approached and his little toes squelched into something warm and wet and slightly sticky. It was red he realised. She would be so proud that he remembered the colours she taught him. He reached out to her shoulder to wake her up. It wouldn’t be good to sleep here and get in trouble for not doing the chores. They would have a good big sleep later instead and he would tell her all about the colours he remembered. He liked this red. It was a pretty colour.

It wasn’t until much later that he learned that it was blood. It meant that she would never be coming back. And that beautiful colour that had surrounded her was called blood red. That colour stained his dreams ever since. She haunted him too, a silent spectator. White face dripping with tears of red.

*

_Useless._

_Stupid._

_Waste of space._

The words sliced through him and left him hollow. Years beyond count had made him certain that his name was one of those things. No one called him anything else. He couldn’t even remember the name of the one that chased him through his nights. And that was an important person. He knew that although he couldn’t remember why he knew. But if he couldn’t remember such an important person’s name, why should he get one?

He was nothing. 

It had been repeated over and over until it was the only certainty in his life.

The house he resided in was cold and dilapidated. Mice nibbled on the food in the pantry and cockroaches skittered through the halls. His place was out in the back yard in summer. The concrete of the back step his bed and the darkened sky his ceiling. In winter he was allowed to settle in the little space under the stairs. But only if he was very good.

He did try to be good. That person whose face chased him in his sleep had always told him to be good. He wanted to please her. He remembered her voice, faintly whispering. _Be good… Quiet as a mouse._

The mice weren’t very quiet though. Squeaking and scuttling. But he tried. He really did.

But it seemed he could never do anything right.

He always missed things. Lost things. Broke things. 

Got in the way.

Cost money.

Cost food.

Existed.

Sometimes he would be let off with just yelling. His names thrown at him along with curses.

_Fucking good for nothing._

_Useless piece of shit._

And sometimes the pain would bloom along the skin where he was struck. An open palm, a fist, a foot. 

Black and blue and yellow would litter his skin for days; weeks. They created a mottled pattern over grey skin stretched taught. The lines of his bones showed through the patterns and highlighted the ugly colours.

Sometimes red would join them though and create a delicate pattern across his already marred skin. 

He always had thought that blood red was pretty.

*

He hated _her_.

But it was okay because she hated him back. 

She hated him because she had to look after him but he was not hers. Unlike her son. So brilliant and smart. So well behaved. A good boy.

Perfect.

Apparently good boys got to go to school. They got to learn how to read and write and speak other languages. They got new clothes that fit them and enough food that their cheeks were fat and shiny.

They also got to boss him around.

He still had to do all the chores. But now he had to do _his_ as well. Or the perfect son would lash out with his fists and words.

A fist would connect with his stomach and he would choke and retch from the force.

_I don’t know why they didn’t just kill you too._

He didn’t know either. It would be nice, he mused while he lay under the night sky, to end the pain in such a pretty coloured pool of red. One last masterpiece to match the colours that decorated his skin.

*

Loneliness was what he was feeling although he didn’t know the word for it.

He grew up inside. Never able to leave except for being put outside on the step to sleep. That old house was all he knew. He never even thought to look beyond it. To the sights and sounds out of its boundaries. 

He was never good enough. Such things were not for those who were nothing.

But the woman needed something from the store and had kicked him out of the house with instructions to buy it. Coins were put into his hands and he was shoved out the door.

He didn’t know where the store was but he didn’t get a chance to ask. She was busy. Too busy to go herself. Doing that thing with the man where they made a lot of noise and their bodies rutted together.

It sounded painful. Screams and groans and wet cries would sound out from their lips.

So he walked away, aimless and scared. 

There were so many cars and people. So much noise. There was music and laughter and yelling. It felt like he was adrift in a sea of people. 

They all floated past him. It really emphasised that he was indeed nothing. No one looked at him. No one saw him. He was alone amongst the press of people. He wondered if they all had names. If they had all been good and that is why there were all allowed out.

He walked and walked until his bare feet blistered and bled. He had never walked so far in his life. He was so tired. 

Lost.

Completely alone.

He felt empty. Hollow. He felt like he should never have left. Someone who was nothing surely did not deserve to walk amongst such good people. They must all be very smart and brave. That’s why they were allowed to laugh and yell and walk together.

Watching the groups of people with happy faces pulled at something inside of him. It made him feel strange. Wistful. 

He sat down on the edge of a water fountain and just watched the people. 

He watched until a woman in a blue uniform knelt in front of him asking for his name. A man stood beside her and smiled at him. He was alarmed. Had he been bad? Maybe sitting here was bad? 

She seemed confused when he said he didn’t have one. Nothing, he tried to tell her. He was nothing and he was sorry if sitting here was bad. He didn’t mean to be bad. He stood up and tried to move away.

She caught his hand and carefully asked who had given him the bruises that could be seen peeking out from the stretched neck of his threadbare jersey. He quickly assured her that he had been bad and the perfect son hadn’t liked how slow he had been with his chores. But he promised he would be good now. So good. He didn’t mean to cause her work. 

The man and woman dressed in blue had looked at each other as though they were talking without words. He wondered if that was like writing. Another way to communicate without speech. Maybe that was something smart people learnt in school. He would have to be extra good and see if maybe he could go and learn too.

The woman took his other hand in hers and turned it over to look at his wrist. A little picture of black lines sat there. He often forgot about that. It had been there since he was born. Sometimes late at night in the cold dark he wondered what it meant. He thought it was words. 

Maybe one day he would be good enough to learn how to read them.

He found himself being ushered into a car. He had cried out in alarm. He didn’t mean to be bad. He would be good. 

Please just let him return to the comfort of his cold stair outside the run down old house.

The man raised his hand towards him and he couldn’t help but flinch away. He closed his eyes and waited for the strike. 

The pain would be recompense for being bad. Clearly that fountain was not for sitting. At least, not for nothings.

But the pain never came. Confused, he opened his eyes to see both the man and the woman looking at him with sad eyes. They gently told him they wouldn’t hit him. No one would ever hurt him again.

He was unsure, how did these people know that he would be good? He would try but he always broke things and lost things. He was stupid. He was nothing. Did they not understand?

He let himself be put into the car and they showed him how to do up the seat belt. The drive was exciting. He got to see lots of things out of the window. Lots of different people and places.

They went underground and the car stopped. He let himself be led inside an elevator and then through lots of corridors. They finally got to a busy room and they told him to sit and wait. Another woman in a blue uniform came and placed a blanket around his shoulders. It was warm and fuzzy and he happily snuggled into it.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there and watched all the people run around. Most had similar blue uniforms and walked around talking hurriedly or carrying papers. After sometime the woman from the fountain approached with a new man walking beside her. He was tall and wearing a fancy suit like people do on TV sometimes. Golden eyes stared intently at him.

The man knelt down in front of where he was sitting and looked up at him.

“Takaba Akihito?”

He blinked, confused, and looked around unsure. He turned back to the man when he spoke again.

“What’s your name?”

Something about the deep voice he spoke with was comforting. Soothing. He felt like he could trust this man. 

“Nothing. I don’t have one. You need to be good to get a name.”

Something flickered across the man’s face. Pain?

The man took his hand carefully in his own and turned it over to show the writing on the inside of his wrist.

“Do you know what this is?”

He shook his head.

“This is a soulmate mark. On here is the name of the person who is your soulmate. Do you know what yours says?” He shook his head again. “Your writing says my name, Asami Ryuichi.” He held out his wrist and showed him his writing. It was different to his own. “I have your name on my wrist.”

He froze in shock and stared at the black patterns. “My name?”

“Yes.” 

“I have a name?” He could feel the tears pricking at the corner of his eyes and prayed that it wouldn’t be a joke. But the man- Asami– seemed serious.

“Yes little one, you have a name. You are called Takaba Akihito.”

He stared. He stared until a hand reached up to brush away the tears he didn’t even realise were falling. Suddenly he was overtaken by great shuddering sobs and Asami gathered his thin frame into his arms and held him tight. It was so warm and comforting, engulfing him in the feelings. A large hand stroked through his matted hair.

“It’s okay Akihito. You are my soulmate and now that I have found you, I am never going to let you go. You will never want for anything. No one will ever hurt you again.”

He cried until his tears ran dry and he fell asleep from pure exhaustion in Asami’s arms. 

He didn’t have just one name; he had two.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He wondered how many times this broken boy could tear him to pieces from the inside out._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I caved. There was so many requests for a follow up that I couldn't get it out of my head and in the end wrote this. I'm hoping its a worthy follow up to the first chapter. This is it, there will be no more. All from Asami's POV as we see snippets of Akihito's healing.

He had been waiting a long time for this day. A little over seventeen years in fact. Yet in all of his idle imaginings, he never considered their meeting would be something like this.

 

Half of the population was born with their soulmates name already on their wrist. Some even had two names. Their other half would not get theirs until the other had been born and named. As such, most of the population had their names before they were eight. Very rarely a person would have no name. No destined matched soul. At twelve years of age, Asami has beginning to think he was one of those unfortunate people. 

His class mates stared at him and gossiped about his unmarked wrist. The adults looked at him pityingly and tried to tell him that it didn’t matter. 

When the searing pain awoke him in the early hours of one morning as writing burned itself into his skin, Asami could only smile.

He knew the exact time and date that his destined one was born. Somewhere out there was a wailing little baby by the name of Takaba Akihito and one day, they would be his.

He got more than one set of raised eyebrows as he was discovered suddenly wearing a name on his wrist. A twelve year age gap was highly unusual but even so, people didn’t argue with the soulmate marks. It wasn’t for them to question the universe.

Asami knew it would be some time before he would meet this person. It’s not like he wanted anything to do with a baby anyway. So he decided he wouldn’t try to seek them out until they were older. In the meantime, he would focus on his studies and work on becoming someone who could support his soulmate.

He was twenty the first time he tried to search for Takaba Akihito. He searched everywhere, there were huge world wide databases of names purely to help those looking to find their soulmate. Find someone’s name in the list, pay a small fee along with a photo of your wrist with their name on it with a newspaper in the background that was recently dated to prove that you were in fact their soulmate and you would be provided their contact information. The internet in general was also an excellent tool for such things. But no matter where he looked, Takaba Akihito was not to be found. It was like he didn’t exist. Asami put his search on hold for a few years after that, his soulmate was only eight after all.

Over the years Asami grew in prominence and power, yet for all of his wealth and influence, he still could not find the one he searched for. Takaba Akihito was a Japanese name, yet for all his searching, it was as though they didn’t exist. He knew they were out there, the writing on his wrist was still black after all; it would have turned white if they had died. He also knew that if they were searching for him, he wouldn’t be hard to find. Which meant that they hadn’t looked for him yet.

Why?

Why hadn’t they tried to find him? Why couldn’t he find them? Seventeen long years and still nothing but a name. 

Until he got that phone call.

He was so excited when Kirishima urgently transferred it through after they had called the office and mentioned finding his soulmate. His heartbeat had sounded in his ears and he had felt over joyed when the officer told him they had found someone with his name on their wrist.

His heart had stopped when they told him the circumstances that led to him being at the police station.

The appearance of being physically abused.

Not just a fight; but actual ongoing abuse and neglect at home. He was small, extremely thin and littered with bruises. 

He didn’t know his name either. In fact he told the officer he was nothing and not good enough to have a name.

The elation over finally finding his soulmate suddenly felt like dead weight in his chest.

He left Kirishima in charge and rushed down to the suburban police station where he was told they were waiting. Time felt like it was moving in slow motion, the wait at every traffic light was agonising.

Yet when he made it to the police station, he wondered if it wasn’t too soon. He would finally get to meet his soulmate but the circumstances around their meeting were painful. The officer’s words rung in his head.

_Abuse._

_Neglect._

_Nothing._

It took some time to realise that what he was feeling was fear. Not for the meeting, but for discovering how damaged, how broken his soulmate might be. 

He steeled his resolve and squared his shoulders. He had so much wealth and power now that regardless of his soulmates condition, he could protect him. He would protect him. And care for him and he would do anything and everything to heal this person. What use was all his years rising in power and wealth if not for this?

He heart leapt into his throat when he saw him for the first time.

Takaba Akihito.

His soulmate.

He was so small and clearly malnourished. His frame was thin, bones standing out starkly against the sickly grey skin stretched taught. His face was sunken and gaunt. Hair matted and dirty to the point he could not discern the original colour. His feet sticking out from under the blanket were bare, blistered and bloody as though he had walked a great distance without shoes.

The sadness he felt at seeing him in such a state was greater than anything he had ever felt before. 

But that sadness was nothing compared to the pain he felt when he little soulmate opened his mouth to tell him he didn’t have a name.

Only good boys got names.

It felt like something was squeezing his heart. For a moment he couldn’t breathe with the pain.

When it passed, he explained about the soulmate mark. His soulmate had no idea. Asami wondered if he could even read. Then he told him his name.

Turns out there was even greater pain to be felt. His heart shattered into a million pieces at the shock and overwhelmed happiness Akihito displayed at learning his name. The tears that slid down his gaunt cheeks and great shuddering sobs that racked his tiny frame. When Asami took him into his arms to hold him tight, he was appalled at how light he was. Seventeen, he reminded himself. He was seventeen but he seemed like a child. 

He held him, sitting on the floor of the police station while Akihito cried himself out. He cried until he fell asleep in Asami’s arms. Then and there he vowed to protect and heal this boy at all cost.

The police officer approached with a tearstained face and told him about the state run services for victim help but mentioned that if he could afford it, private services would be able to start treatment much faster. The public health system worked but it was slow. The relief on her face was obvious when he told her that money was no object. Akihito would get all the help he needs, when he needs it. No cost was too great. She had wiped away the tears that had spilled over again and smiled, happy that maybe this poor boy could get a happy ending.

The ride to the penthouse was spent making urgent phone calls as Akihito slept against his chest wrapped up in his suit jacket in place of the blanket. Asami still couldn’t wrap his head around how small and light he was.

Akihito remained asleep even as Asami carried him into his new home. He seemed beyond exhausted, as though the tiredness had seeped into his very bones.

His personal physician and a phycologist specialising in abuse victims arrived that day to make initial examinations and a nutritionist specialising in eating disorders was due to arrive the next morning. 

And so he had to steel himself to learn the horrifying truth of Akihito’s condition.

Thankfully there was some good amongst the bad.

While his growth was stunted and he was exceedingly thin, he would be able to make a full physical recovery with the right food regiment and regular exercise once he was strong enough to handle it. While he had negative connotations with sex, there was no signs of sexual abuse. However he had the mentality of a child and didn’t know how to read or write. He placed an almost reverent importance on names and wore all his emotions on his face, plain for all to see. Having never left the house before this incident, his world was exceedingly small and he had no idea how to function as a normal person; including basic hygiene, how to form human relationships or how to interact with other people. He also had an extreme fixation on being good and very strong ideals about good versus bad behaviour.

He was seventeen but five year olds knew more about the world and how to interact with other people than he did. 

It made Asami’s heart ache.

Asami had been informed in no uncertain terms the amount of power he would hold over Akihito during the start of their relationship and the dependence on him. He would have to be exceedingly careful about what he did and said. He would have to lead by example and progress would be slow at times but faster at others. Being his soulmate had advantages, as did being the one to tell Akihito his name. He would feel safe with him and open up to him much faster. But he would also revere him, idolise him in a way that he would have to be careful not to unintentionally abuse.

So they began slowly.

The very first thing they did once the examinations were complete was head for the shower. Leading by example, Asami had stripped himself down as well and sat on the shower floor as he gently scrubbed copious amounts of dirt and grime from Akihito’s skin. He felt a stab of pain every time Akihito flinched away from him. He would jump if he didn’t see him reach out to touch him and would flinch and shut his eyes if he saw the hand or arm coming towards him. So Asami would patiently wait for Akihito to open his eyes again before proceeding with his care. He felt another stab of pain when Akihito seemed surprised that a strike never came.

He softly repeated over and over again; “I will not hurt you, no one will ever hurt you again.”

Asami only wished that the wounds on the inside would be as easy to heal as it was to wash off the dirt on the outside. He wished those painful memories would also be swept down the drain.

Their first evening together was quiet, Akihito didn’t talk much and just watched him with cautious eyes that had seen too much. The psychologist was unsure what could trigger him and how he would react when triggered, so Asami had to be careful. 

Akihito nibbled on some plain rice crackers and seemed surprisingly content over having such a thing for dinner. They didn’t want him to have too much food or anything too heavy for fear of taking a step backwards before they had even begun. So it was a bare handful of crackers that was made his dinner. He soon fell asleep again and Asami used the time to check the bandages on his feet before taking him to their bed.

Asami had been surprised when it had been suggested to him that they should share a bed right from the get go. Apparently Akihito’s only happy memory was of sleeping curled up with his mother when he was very small and the psychologist was hoping that they could use that along with the comfort of his soulmates presence to help keep him calm at night in a strange place. 

It seemed to work initially as the tiny body curled up against his and he wrapped his arms around his soulmate to hold him tight. But it didn’t stop the nightmares that made him cry out in his sleep. He whimpered and thrashed around and cried out that he would be good. Asami wondered how many times his heart could break in one day when Akihito brought his hands up to shield his face from some imaginary attacker. He lay there wrapped around Akihito, stroking his hair and whispering reassurances into his ear. He didn’t know how long it took to soothe him until his body stopped trembling. 

Minutes. Hours. 

All he knew was that it took too long. But he would be patient and maybe one day Akihito could sleep with pleasant dreams.

*

Slowly Akihito began to heal.

First, Asami taught him how to care for himself. To brush his teeth morning and night, how to brush his hair, to make sure that he cleaned every part of himself in the shower. He was a fast learner and quickly knew how to do these things for himself. However he adored Asami washing his hair for him. So it became a reward.

Akihito stayed holed up the penthouse, never stepping foot outside. He came from never leaving his old house so to limit the stress to his person, they planned to slowly widen his world little by little. First he must be used to his new surrounds and new routines.

They focused on his good versus bad ideals and used those to help him learn and negate other effects. By rights he should have an eating disorder with the way he viewed food as a rare and wondrous occurrence. However his desire to be good overrode even that. The penalty for not following his food plan and taking more food out of the kitchen to eat without asking first was strict. No treats or rewards for a week along with the label of ‘bad’. Akihito didn’t even once attempt it, even though he was home alone for hours at a time while Asami was at work. 

Akihito was then taught how to clean and care for the penthouse, taking pride in his ability to care for their space and enjoying the rewards that came with it. He still flinched when Asami raised his hands towards him but otherwise seemed to be starting to relax in his presence. He seemed to be fine by himself too which relieved Asami greatly. The less things for Akihito to adjust to or cause him stress the better.

Head scratches and getting his hair washed for him were his favourite reward along with praise until Asami introduced him to chocolate. It had been a few weeks and he was cleared to be able to start allowing more processed foods into his diet. Turns out he adored sweets. His eyes would light up and his would smile, a huge blinding smile of happiness that took his breath away.

As much as he would buy his soulmate the world, they had to take things one step at a time. So every few days he brought home a different sweet and as long as Akihito had done his set chores, he was allowed it. And Akihito always did his chores. Asami was thrilled with the pride in which Akihito took his responsibilities, even if it was in the desire to please him that drove it.

He had thought they were doing extremely well and was relieved over Akihito’s progress so far. Other than the nightmares, no outward signs of distress showed. They were taking it slow and being cautious but so far he didn’t seem to have been triggered, no signs of panic or anxiety attacks. The psychologist came every few days and had admitted they were making better progress than they thought they would. 

He had thought that until he came home early one day and couldn’t find Akihito.

Asami felt the panic well up as he strode through the house looking for his lost soulmate. He knew he was here, knew he hadn’t left. He was sure he wouldn’t doing anything to hurt himself. He looked everywhere and couldn’t find him. Until he noticed his wardrobe door ajar.

He had quietly walked forward and slowly opened the door. Akihito was curled up in a small ball at the back. He hadn’t responded at all until Asami had called out to him. 

That was the first time he saw him triggered. 

Akihito had obviously assumed from the look on Asami’s face that being caught in here was bad. Asami had watched as though in slow motion as the colour drained from his soulmates face and his eyes went wide. It was when he started to shake that he realised what was happening. He curled back up on himself, tears streaming down and his hands curled protectively around his head as he wailed his apologies. He apologised over and over and promised to keep being good. 

So good. 

_Please, I’ll be so very good!_

Asami had sat down in the doorway to his wardrobe and gently started telling him it was okay. It wasn’t bad to be in here, he was just surprised, was all. 

He wasn’t bad, he was never bad. 

Such a good boy for him. 

All he wanted to do was pick him and hold him tight but he honestly wasn’t sure how he would respond to that in such a state. So he repeated his litany of praise and reassurance until the shaking subsided and the sobbing stopped. He waited until Akihito raised his head to look at him and opened his arms in a gesture for a hug. It was some minutes before he slowly crawled out of the space and he paused just beside Asami before finally moving into the circle of his arms. He pulled his soulmate in close and they stayed like that for some time as the last of the trembling stopped.

They had a very quiet evening that night, Akihito being clingy and refusing to let go of Asami. So he held him tight until the morning.

*

The psychologist refused to ask Akihito for the names of his abusers and had refused to let Asami ask. The police had no idea where he came from and no leads as to the people who hurt him so much.

_“There is no maybe, asking him for names of the people who hurt him will trigger him. He puts a great deal of importance on names and I refuse to put him through that. Do not go down that path Asami-san. Nothing can be gained by taking revenge. Focus all your efforts on healing Takaba-kun instead.”_

*

The next time he saw Akihito triggered was only a week later. Asami had been sitting with Akihito on the couch and asked if he had remembered the doctor from a few weeks prior. He hadn’t thought anything of the question until he had no response. He had turned around saw him staring wide eyed into nothing and the tremors starting. Alarmed, he had called out to his soulmate but there was still no response.

Asami had to wait until he tears and shaking had stopped. Akihito did not speak throughout this panic attack and all he could do was stroke his back and hair and whisper reassurances until he calmed. 

Finally calmer, Akihito was curled up against his chest seeking the warm comfort of his embrace. Asami constantly thanked their soulmate bond for letting him find so much comfort in their closeness. He didn’t know how he would manage if he could not hold him at such a time.

He had forgotten the doctor’s name. 

It was the first time he had seen the effects of such a reverence placed on names. That was the moment he gave up on ever asking Akihito for his abusers names. He would still see if he could track them down through other means but he could never cause such a reaction in his soulmate willingly. 

He knew the attack would be far, far worse over _their_ names.

*

Slowly, so very slowly, Akihito’s body began to heal. The bruises that had mottled his skin were a distant memory and he began to fill out into his frame more. He would always be small, a consequence of constant malnourishment growing up, but his skin no longer clung to his bones and seem to glow with health. His hair turned out to be a sandy blonde colour and shone in the artificial light of the penthouse. His blue eyes sparkled with curiosity and life.

With the return of his health and relative stability of his mentality, Asami was able to start introducing Akihito to more and more things.

The very first time he had ever heard him laugh was when he introduced him to music. He had given him a phone and shown him how to answer it if Asami was calling. On a whim, he had put a radio station app on the phone and while Akihito couldn’t yet read, he quickly figured out how to change the stations and which icon corresponded to what type of music.

That pealing laughter held so much wondrous joy. 

After that music often filled the space in the penthouse. Akihito never had it particularly loud and always carried his phone close to him rather than turning it up. There must have been some lingering unconscious need to remain quiet but it was a beautiful thing to hear Akihito singing along to a song for the first time.

*

Asami had learned that he had to be careful how he phrased questions to Akihito. Something like ‘come sit with me’ was taken as a command that Akihito needed to obey if he wanted to be good. Not how Asami really meant it which was ‘I would like you to sit with me but only if you want to’.

He learned that he had to give Akihito options, usually two or three to choose from as giving him unlimited freedom could sometimes scare him. Things like asking what he would like to do or eat without giving an option could either get a proper response or the onset of an anxiety attack.

Something always tore inside Asami when he accidently triggered panic in his soulmate over something so trivial.

*

Asami hired a private tutor to help Akihito learn to read and write and purchased him his first book as a reward for doing well on the first day. It was a massive A3 sized book that contained no words only stunning wildlife pictures taken by a famous photographer.

The delight and excitement over each picture lit up his entire being. Akihito spent hours pouring over the book that night, Asami could only watch with a smile and his heart overflowing.

*

Next, Akihito took an interest in food and Kirishima offered to help him cook a few meals to show him how it worked. His soulmate’s enthusiasm was enchanting. Asami watched the entire thing and noticed just how interested he was. Looks like cooking might end up being a regular activity.

But he felt a pang of sadness every time Akihito flinched when Kirishima moved too suddenly. Thankfully his secretary was very patient and they were able to proceed with no difficulty. He no longer reacted to Asami that way, hadn’t for some time now. But while seeing the remains of the scars coming to the surface around others hurt him like a physical pain in his chest, Asami was proud of the trust his soulmate had in him. 

The exercise in cooking was a resounding success. Every night, Kirishima came over and taught Akihito a little more about different meals, ingredients and appliances while they prepared that night’s dinner for all three. It was another thing Akihito could take pride in and would always present Asami his meal with a beaming smile he couldn’t help but return.

All too soon, he was doing so well that he barely needed any assistance. The only thing he still struggled with was reading the recipe. Kirishima surprised both of them one day, presenting Akihito with a large clear file. Inside was all sorts of recipes done up both with the words but also pictures. The pictures of cups and spoons were colour coded to match the colourful set in the penthouse and the number of things required were displayed as well as pictures to show each step. 

The next night he cooked just for himself and Asami, with no help or inference. Completely by himself. It was perfect. Asami had praised him and told him how proud he was.

That was the first time Akihito had cried from pure happiness with no negative feelings attached.

*

It was quite some time before Asami once again found Akihito in his closet. He had come home to no Akihito to be found once again but music was playing from the kitchen. He had quickly surveyed the area to try and figure out what had happened. He came across the remains of a glass bottle of what smelled like soy sauce in a sticky, shattered mess on the kitchen floor.

In his desperate desire to be good, Akihito was meticulous with everything he did. This was the first time Asami had seen him make a mistake.

To Akihito, there was no such thing as an accident. No such thing as a mistake. 

There was only good and bad. 

This was bad.

With a heavy heart, Asami had made his way into the bed room and gently pried the wardrobe door open. Inside, Akihito was curled up into a shaking ball and desperately sobbing. He suddenly seemed to notice Asami’s presence, perhaps from the light let in by the now open door, and he froze. The fear and shame in his eyes felt like a stab in Asami’s gut and he reached out to Akihito with the intent to soothe him. 

Akihito flinched away from him for the first time in weeks. 

Asami felt his heart shatter once again.

He wondered how many times this broken boy could tear him to pieces from the inside out. 

He ignored all warnings about approaching or touching Akihito when he was like this and stepped into the wardrobe and bodily picked him up. He sat down in the wardrobe with Akihito in his arms and held him, whispering reassurances. 

He wasn’t sure how long they sat there together. Akihito didn’t seem to believe that he wasn’t bad and he couldn’t seem to wrap his head around the concept of something being a mistake. Eventually he seemed to accept it but Asami knew this could happen again as long as he didn’t understand.

The way to get him to understand had been surprisingly easy in the end.

*

A shelter cat by the name of Midnight came into their little family.

Asami had thought long and hard about whether or not to give Akihito the option to name her but in the end decided he wasn’t quite ready for that responsibility and kept her original name. Midnight was a special cat, as the vet had told Akihito. Much like his little soulmate, the cat had not had an easy start in life and the damage was plain to see. The long black fur was matted, dull and falling out in a lot of places. She lay still, eyes looking dead and scared with one of her back legs sitting out at an odd angle.

The vet who had come with Asami to help settle Midnight into her new home explained how to care for her. How much food and when to feed her. How to groom her and how to carry her without causing pain.

She explained that with the right kind of care, Midnight might be able to walk again but right now, it was too painful. She told Akihito about how she was neglected and kicked around, then left uncared for. That was why her back leg was not working and caused Midnight pain. She showed Akihito how to gently massage the muscles on and around her leg to loosen the stiff muscles and help promote healing. Midnight couldn’t walk at all right now and Akihito would have to carry her round and give her lots of love so that she could heal.

Asami watched as Akihito found a kindred spirit and his eyes lit up in determination and kindness.

He cared for and loved Midnight with all his broken little heart.

From then on Akihito could not be found without a little black fur ball either in his arms or sitting close by. He read to her, sung to her and talked about anything and everything to her. 

And just like Asami had with Akihito, they watched as she healed and came out of her shell. 

Her fur stopped falling out and started to grow back in, long and fluffy with a healthy shine. She would often meow back to Akihito when he talked to her. The care and attention he gave her meant that her leg began to heal and slowly she started to walk again. It was slow and clearly painful but Akihito was overjoyed. 

Midnight still seemed to prefer to be carried around though and his little soulmate was more than happy to oblige.

*

Finally Akihito began to understand things from a different perspective.

Asami came home one day to a broken vase with Akihito back in the closet and sighed. He had once more approached the wardrobe with heavy steps. It always hurt to see him in there knowing it meant he was scared or in pain. 

The scars of his past were still there, lurking under the surface.

He had opened the door to find Akihito curled up around Midnight with his forehead pressed against hers. He tensed when he realised the door was open and looked up with fearful eyes. Asami had sat down and leant against the door frame.

“You aren’t bad Akihito.”

He bit his lip in worry and averted his eyes. “But I broke it.”

“If Midnight slipped on the kitchen counter and knocked something off and it broke, is she bad?”

“No!” Akihito denied vehemently. “She can’t walk properly, it wouldn’t be her fault! She wouldn’t mean to!”

“Did you mean to break the vase?’

“… No.” He could almost see the gears turning in his head. For all that he was bright and a quick learner, differentiating between mistakes and bad behaviour was something they had not been able to make any headway on. 

“Then it’s the same. You did not mean to, so it was an accident. Accidents happen, that doesn’t mean you have been bad.”

Akihito gave a slow nod as he stared down at Midnight in thought. Something seemed to click into place and he looked up at Asami with none of the fear and shame he had seen before. He felt the relief wash through him. 

Another step complete.

Another shard back in place and mended.

The scars will remain but he would not be broken forever.

Akihito shifted Midnight in his arms and shuffled forward on his knees until he was sitting between Asami’s legs. He leant against him and looked up into his eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay Akihito.”

Their faces were close, only inches apart and Asami didn’t even think. He placed a hand under Akihito’s chin to lift his head a little more and leaned in to place a chaste kiss on his lips. He had moved away again before the reality of what he had done hit him. He froze in place as Akihito stared at him curiously. 

“What does that mean?”

Asami cleared his throat and tried to think of the best way to describe a kiss so that Akihito would understand but also not attempt to do it with anyone else. That was not a bridge he wanted to cross.

“Ah, that’s something we can do as soulmates to show our love and affection for each other.”

He watched as something flickered across Akihito face before suddenly there were tears in his eyes threatening to spill over.

“Akihito?!” Asami said in alarm.

His soulmate took a great shuddering breath before managing to stutter out what was wrong. “Y-you l-love me?”

Ah.

“Of course, Akihito. How could I not?”

He broke down then and buried his face in Asami’s neck. All Asami could do was wrap his arms around his soulmate while being careful not to squash Midnight between them. 

He realised that this was probably the first time in living memory that someone told Akihito that they loved him, even if he hadn’t done so directly. That realisation hurt a little but he was getting used to Akihito’s pain shattering his own being. Perhaps from here it would happen less, now that he understood that he was loved.

And happy tears were something he could get used to.


End file.
